Always
by Master Snape
Summary: Severus was imprisoned in Azkaban after the war. Even though it was not a life sentence, the Wizengamot decided a five year incarceration would appease the hatred of a public who still wanted Severus Snape punished for his crimes. This is the story of two enemies who after the war, attained a mutual respect that eventually turned into love through a shared correspondence.
1. Chapter 1

Prisoner 08091940- Severus Snape

Cell 42D-High Risk Security

Azkaban Prison- Great Sea, North Atlantic

11/January/1999

Professor Snape,

I reckon if you never heard the name _Harry Potter _again you'd be grateful for the respite. To be honest sir, I've tried very hard not to contact you. I've written countless letters only to end up tossing them into the fire knowing the last thing you'd want is to hear from me. In the end however, I knew I'd never find the peace I needed to move on with my life if I didn't write to you even once. I don't expect any kind of response nor do I even think you'll read this letter, but somehow my heart feels lighter with the knowledge it will be sent.

I won't ask how you survived Nagini's attack nor harass you for information about my mother. You gave me far more than I could have ever dreamed when you shared your memories of her. It was a gift I will be eternally grateful for and I promise you sir, those memories will stay secure in my Gringotts vault until your release, at which time I'll return them safely to your possession. Nobody has viewed them aside from me, and I swear to you it will stay that way.

You can't begin to know how grateful and relieved I was to learn of your survival, although if I'd known what the Wizengamot had planned for you, I would have encouraged you to stay hidden rather than endure the injustices of your trial. Your words come back to me now, harsh but true: _nobody ever said life was fair._ Though the cynicism of reality has given me a new appreciation for those words, it doesn't mean I have to accept them. I certainly refuse to accept your imprisonment which was wrong on every level, while real criminals like Malfoy and his wife get away with barely a slap on the wrist. The wizarding world was looking for a scapegoat Professor Snape, and they found it in _you._

_I tried professor._

I did everything in my power as did Hermione, Professor McGonagall and many others. The fact that Dumbledore left nothing to support your case only intensified my anger against him. It's obvious we were all used as pawns for _the greater good_. Though I now fully understand what his intentions were, I believe somewhere along the way, he lost track of the individual lives revolving around his plans in favour of _the bigger picture._ I think in that sense, Dumbledore lost some of his humanity. His lectures on love and compassion still resonate through me, although now they're tainted with the bitterness of his hypocrisy.

The cruel reality was he never expected either of us to survive Professor Snape, so never planned anything for it. The very fact that he cast us aside for dead so early on, was deeply upsetting. Seeing the scope of it now, there isn't a single person who doesn't agree there could have been alternatives to his _master plan_ had he chosen to see them, but I suppose it's too late to go into what if's. As Hermione often tells me, contemplating it is enough to drive anyone mad.

The main purpose of this letter isn't to prattle on about what could have been, but to convey to you the things I never had the chance to say. I know you don't want to hear any of this, but I need to say them regardless.

I need this Professor Snape.

_I need this for me._

Thank you for loving my mother as you did. It was _you_ who taught me the true nature of unconditional love, not Dumbledore. It took me a long time to admit this, but as much as I love my mother, she did not deserve everything you endured for her. Although it hurt deeply to know the faults of my parents, it also made me realise that I'd placed them on an unrealistic pedestal for far too long. I guess you could say I stopped looking at mum and dad through rose-coloured glasses, once I viewed your memories. You were right about my dad in many ways, but I like to believe in the end, he matured enough to know he was wrong about the things he did in his youth. I also need to believe that mum knew she should have forgiven you, if only to keep a cherished childhood friendship. Of course I'll never know the answers to these questions, but I suppose what's more important are the lessons they carry, which I'll take with me throughout my life.

More than anything, I'm sorry for the continuing retribution you are being forced to suffer in Azkaban. I swear to you professor, we're not giving up! Hermione, who's decided her future lies in Wizarding Law, is appealing your case even as I write this. Since you already consider our lot hopeless Gryffindors, it should come as no surprise to you that we're going to continue fighting for your release even if it takes us all five years of your sentence! It might also interest you to know that Draco has come on board and is lending his time and resources, which I have no doubt would be completely against his father's wishes. Though I loathe that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were able to use their money and influence to buy their way out of prison, at least they've done us a service by crawling into obscurity for the time being.

I don't pretend to believe you're interested in any aspect of my life sir, so I won't burden you with details about it. As I said in the beginning, I don't expect any type of response to this letter. It would be enough for me to know that your eyes have looked upon its contents. It's been unbearable for me to think you would never know the gratitude that's in my heart for all that you've suffered for our cause, especially for a boy who's been the physical embodiment of all the things you despise. I can only hope that eventually you'll see that I am not my father Professor Snape, and someday will be able to look past my exterior to know that my words are indeed sincere.

Thank you sir for everything you've done, not only for our world, but also for my mother and especially for me. Please know that despite what you may believe, there are many among us who greatly admire and respect you as one of the bravest men we will ever know.

_Myself included._

With deepest respect,

Harry Potter


	2. Chapter 2

Harry James Potter

12 Grimmauld Place

London, United Kingdom

22/January/1999

Mr Potter,

I am quite certain it is with great stupefaction that you are reading this missive. I have no doubt that you thought I would merely disregard your words without a proper response, and for all greater purposes, I suppose that would have been the better alternative, however being isolated inside the bowels of a dark and rotting cell tends to remind me that I cannot sink any lower than I already have. In other words, I do not have anything left to lose, so why should I care? Dignities, self-respect, hope; all those things vanished after I killed Albus Dumbledore. There are some days Mr Potter, where I question the lucidity of my own mind. I can feel it slipping, just like the endless drops of water which perpetually trickle down these dank cell walls. They have shackled my body, bound my magic and disposed of my wand, so I suppose it is only a matter of time before the last tattered shreds of my sanity begin to fray.

It seems befitting that my life should begin and end with _the boy who lived._

I will admit, I was rather astonished to read that you did not share my memories with all of Gryffindor House or the public for that matter. I would have thought that showcasing my deepest longings and humiliations would have been adequate retribution for the maliciousness I have borne toward you and your peers over the years.

Perhaps you are correct in your assumption that I do not know you as well I had perceived. It is of little consequence however, as I am most certain I will not survive long enough to see if the progeny of your words bear fruit. If my body is not deteriorated in these coming years, it is with little doubt my mind will be. I believe that the Dementor's Kiss would have been a better substitute than having to live out the remainder of my years within the confines of a hell that goes far beyond the walls of Azkaban. Are you so naïve as to believe this torment will cease if I am ever freed? In case you have failed to notice Mr Potter, the wizarding world is not as forgiving as you and your little circle of friends. I would be released into a world that regards me as little more than a pariah. I am a hated and despised individual for many reasons, and I can assure you that society would not be welcoming me with open arms simply because their golden saviour says that they should. Tell Miss Granger to infuse her insufferable skills into a cause more worthy of her time and effort, and not in someone whose life is nearly bereft of its existence.

I will end this missive as I do not see the need to continue further, however as a final thought, there is something I wish to convey to you:

_I do not hate you Harry Potter. I hate what you represented to me, but never you._

Do well in whatever you choose to do with your life Mr Potter. Do not let the love of your mother, nor those who have chosen to willingly sacrifice their lives for a better world, go unheard.

_They live through you._

Severus Snape


	3. Chapter 3

Prisoner 08091940- Severus Snape

Cell 42D-High Risk Security

Azkaban Prison- Great Sea, North Atlantic

31/Januaray/1999

Professor Snape,

I'm sure you'll consider me a sentimental idiot for telling you this, but receiving your reply was an unexpected surprise that brought me much joy. I want to thank you for responding to my letter and promise that if you should choose to continue this correspondence, I'll never betray your confidences by sharing anything we discuss unless I have your express permission first, not even with Hermione. I believe I've proven my trustworthiness with the proper handling of your memories.

_You can trust me sir_. You have my oath not only as a wizard Professor Snape, but also as a friend… even if you don't see me as such at this time.

It pains me greatly to read of the atrocities that are happening to you in Azkaban. You don't deserve to be locked up like a traitor while the likes of real criminals such as the Malfoys wander free and unimpeded. You're a war hero and a good man even though you may not believe so.

Before you begin listing your litany of sins, I'm not saying that you're a completely innocent person or that you haven't done unspeakable acts; but this was war Professor Snape, and many of us have done deeds which will haunt us for the rest of our lives. There are many acts which I committed during those final months that I still can't speak of. They haunt my thoughts during the day and torment my nights so much that Dreamless Sleep is no longer effective in the quantities standard for normal use.

Forgive me for going off on a tangent sir. I only mention these things because you're not alone in feeling guilt or pain for past misdeeds. My words might be too late in coming to hold much meaning or comfort for you, but in my eyes as well as those of us who know the truth, you're forgiven Professor Snape. You've more than made up for any wrong doings committed in the past. You've saved my life and countless others many times over. We could NEVER have won this war without the unrelenting sacrifices you had to endure, especially for my mother. It's time to forgive yourself, and let it go.

_It was enough sir, more than enough._

You mentioned in your letter that you didn't hate me, only what I represented. I can say quite honestly that the feeling is mutual.

_I never hated you Professor Snape._

There were many times I could readily admit to not liking or trusting you, but that was the way it was supposed to be wasn't it? We played our parts equally well it seems. I know we may never exactly like each other, but I do hope that someday we can get past this long-held animosity and at least attempt to reach some sort of mutual understanding. Believe it or not professor, I 'm no longer a child, and would prefer to conduct myself in a civil and adult manner regarding this.

_To be perfectly honest sir, I don't think I've ever been a child. _

The few snatches of unguarded happiness I experienced while at Hogwarts can hardly constitute as a childhood. I understand from what I've seen of your memories that we share a similar background. I'm not mentioning this to upset you sir, I'm only stating it because I know you're one of the few people I can talk to who will genuinely understand what I mean, having lived through similar circumstances. Though Ron and Hermione mean well when they try to understand my life, they can't possibly relate. They've both had loving and decent parents who actually wanted them and showed concern for their wellbeing. Until I came to Hogwarts, I never knew or understood any of those concepts. Hogwarts was my first real home, and the only place I was ever fully accepted for _who_ and _what_ I was. I suppose that's also the reason it plays a very big factor in the decisions I'm now making for my future.

At first Ron and I had decided to enter the Auror programme, but with the constant badgering from the public due to what you term as my _celebrity status _(of which I wholeheartedly detest), I dropped out of the programme and decided to join Hermione in returning to Hogwarts to take my N.E.W.T. exams. Truthfully, I didn't feel comfortable taking a free ride on my education so I could enter a programme that usually requires years of preparation to even qualify for. Perhaps Ron is alright with that alternative, _but I'm not_. With the war behind me, I felt for the first time in my life, I could actually concentrate on normal activities such as my education and even a choice of career options which would enable me to do what _I want to do_ as opposed to _what everyone else expects me to do._

After entering the wizarding world as a child, I was held captive by the excitement and glamour of becoming an Auror or professional Quidditch player, much like any other youth I suppose. Time however, as well as the unfortunate experiences that come along with being _the boy who lived, _have made both professions lose their appeal for me. The last thing I want to do is spend my life chasing down Dark wizards or criminals. I believe my encounter with Voldemort has completely tramped down any desire I might've had to tread down that road. As for Quidditch…well to be quite honest sir, I know most people wouldn't be coming to watch Harry Potter—_ Britain's best seeker_, but Harry Potter—_savior of the wizarding world. _I am weary of the spectacle my life has become and just want a peaceful existence away from all of that. When Professor McGonagall offered me a position to aid the current Defence professor at Hogwarts based on my N.E.W.T. scores, I accepted along with a five-year apprenticeship to train under Madam Pomfrey as a Healer. At the end of my apprenticeship, I'll be given the option to stay on at Hogwarts and become the school's official mediwizard after Madam Pomfrey retires, or further my career by transferring to St Mungo's as an intern to study in a specialised field of my choice. It's still too far away to make that kind of decision, but at least I feel good knowing I've started down the road I know in my gut is the correct path for me. In a way, it's a culmination of everything I've wanted; I can still teach others to protect themselves from Dark Magic while also being an instrument in healing. Most importantly for me though, _I finally get to come home_. With as much bloodshed as Hogwarts endured during the final battle, amazingly enough, there's still peace here. It's a serenity and comfort that no other place on earth can ever offer me.

_I know you understand exactly what I mean Professor Snape. Hogwarts was always your home, and when you're released, it could be again if that's what you choose. I know Hogwarts will gladly welcome you with open arms, as it did for me._

Although I'm quite happy with the new direction my life has taken, unfortunately there are others who don't share my view. Ginny and I have separated permanently because she can't understand this need I have for quiet and solitude. She's intent on becoming a professional Quidditch player, and while I wish her only the best, I simply can't follow her this time. Ron was understandably upset at first, and I won't deny that it's caused a very severe strain in our friendship, but I'm hoping over time he'll see that it was the better choice for both Ginny and myself. Besides, I doubt very highly I'll be entering any kind of relationship in the foreseeable future. It may sound silly, but perhaps that's one of the reasons I can breathe a little easier when I'm at Hogwarts.

Since I'll be living at Grimmauld Place until the beginning of fall term, I plan to spend the summer renovating the house as a wedding gift for Draco Malfoy and his betrothed Hermione Granger. (I'm sure you're surprised by this turn of events, but their story has been a long time in coming. Even though I was against it at first, eventually, even I couldn't deny that Draco was a far better suit for Hermione than Ron. If you're interested, I would be happy to share their tale in a future letter. I'm sure as Draco's godfather, your concern for his wellbeing runs deep.)

_I've learnt that Gryffindors and Slytherins can create a beautiful palette if allowed to mix._

Understandably Draco didn't want to start his new life with Hermione at Malfoy Manor, especially after the trauma she endured there at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, so I offered them Grimmauld Place which will eventually be sitting empty anyway. It's safe, private, and affords the new couple the security they'll be needing in the future. Many still distrust Draco not only for his past actions, but also for the name he carries. Thankfully neither he nor Hermione are letting it get the best of them. Draco determinedly wants to wipe the dirt from the Malfoy name and refuses to follow in his father's footsteps. Not surprisingly, he always attributes that drive to _you _Professor Snape. I know Draco wishes to write you, but has been hesitant about it. If I could sir, may I give him your permission to do so? I know it would mean a great deal to him as you're now the only family he has left aside from Hermione. You should know that Draco along with the rest of us, has also been working tirelessly for your early release.

Speaking of which, we may have found a small breakthrough. Hermione asked me not to mention this if you should write back, but I wanted to give you some good news especially after the defeated tone of your last letter. I can't tell you exactly what the plan entails, but I will say Hermione may have found a niche which may get your sentence reduced to half the time. It's not much, but it _is_ a start professor. We're also working hard to find any kind of loophole that would enable us to send you provisions like warm blankets, edible food and even some reading material to help keep your mind occupied. I can't enclose anything in this letter, knowing all post is thoroughly searched, but fortunately we have managed to secure a meeting with Minister Shacklebolt for Monday. If we can find a way to play through this political chess game, there will hopefully be a care package on its way to you that same day.

You never gave up on my mother or me, and I have no intention of giving up on you. Say what you will Professor Snape; in fact slam me with every acerbic and caustic remark you can throw my direction because believe it or not, I actually welcome them! It proves to me you're still alive inside and out, and I know you'll need that sharp and biting wit to survive in that godforsaken place until we can acquire your release.

Please don't give up sir. No matter how difficult it might become, remember there are many people on your side who are fighting for you. I know the world may not welcome you with open arms as you say…_but I will. _I swear to you Professor Snape, I will not allow anyone to hurt you again. If you fall I will catch you, just like you've done for me most of my life.

_It's my turn to protect you sir, and I will come through. I swear it on my mother's name._

I'll close this letter for now, and spare you from anymore of my sentimental prattle…at least for the time being.

Sir, if you have any questions about what's happening in the wizarding world, or perhaps might want to pass on any messages, please feel free to include them in your next letter…assuming you write back.

_I hope you do._

Please keep in mind that people care for you Professor Snape. I will continue to say this in every letter I write until I get it through your stubborn skull.

_Yes, Gryffindor cheek._

After all, what letter from me would be complete without it?

Harry Potter

P.S. You know, for all my Gryffindor tendencies, I thought it would be interesting for you to note that I was almost sorted into _Slytherin House._ I've never told that bit to anyone.

Sometimes I wish I'd allowed the hat to sort me where it originally intended. How different would things have been I wonder?


	4. Chapter 4

Harry James Potter

12 Grimmauld Place

London, United Kingdom

9/ February/ 1999

Mr Potter,

The very act that I am even answering this missive suggest that my acuity is indeed slipping. At any rate, I suppose it is only a matter of time before my sanity is dependent on your nonsensical blathering as respite from the madness which total isolation often bestows.

_A Slytherin dependent on a Gryffindor for stability of his faculties? I find the world as I know it is indeed coming to an end. _

It is almost with comedic irony that I use to embrace the solitude which you seek so profusely; for that same element is now my bitter enemy as each lonely day bleeds into the next with excruciating slowness. I have become proficient in reading the passage of time not only by the small slice of light which passes through my infinitesimal window, but also by the fury of the sea which crashes against the stone walls in a perpetual assault. The only sound which allows me some fragment of repose is that of the rain. I sometimes permit myself to imagine I am standing beneath its gentle cascade as pellucid drops wash away the filth which has caked onto my body. I have not been allowed a proper bath since my incarceration in October, and cleansing spells are only invoked once a month. I try to wash by the small basin of stagnant water which is provided weekly, however being shackled makes it a fruitless endeavor.

_I suppose the term greasy git can now be applied to my person with absolute certitude._

Why am I even imparting any of this information? I suppose the answer lies in the hopelessness of my situation Mr Potter. When a human being is reduced to execrable behavior just to have fundamental needs met, very little matters anymore. It is befitting for a man whose life is as tainted as his blackened soul.

You audaciously tell me to forgive myself for the heinous acts which I have committed, but even if I did, would it make much of a difference? I was tried and convicted for crimes against humanity including the murder of Albus Dumbledore, who without a doubt was one of the greatest wizards who ever lived. I will never forgive myself for ending the life of a man who was not only a mentor to me, but someone whom I also considered a friend; something I have had so few of in my life.

Imagine yourself casting the Killing Curse on Minerva McGonagall or Miss Granger. Even with the full knowledge that they had somehow acquired a curse that would shortly end their time, could you do it Mr Potter? Could you knowingly take their lives then stand by unflinching as the fire they once exuded, fades from the depths of their eyes?

_Could you ever forgive yourself and not consider it murder Mr Potter?_

The one solace that makes the choices I have made more bearable is the underlying fact that _you_ are alive. I made a vow to your mother upon her death as well as to myself that I would do everything in my power to keep you safe. As you well know, when Dumbledore finally revealed the truth of his plans, it took all of my powers of Occlumency to control the indignation and betrayal that was coursing through my veins like Fiendfyre. I felt embittered that he had taken my love for your mother as well as the agony I had endured over her death and twisted it to fit his overall scheme. The hardest part to endure was knowing all my years of spying and lying were entirely for naught. You were to die regardless, like a lamb to the slaughter.

_I had failed Lily in every sense of the word._

When I killed Dumbledore Mr Potter, those were the very thoughts I used to cast the Avada Kedavra.

_Do you still consider me as a good man?_

I once asked Dumbledore about my soul, wondering if there might possibly be a small part of my existence worth redemption. His response was that only _I _could determine whether helping an untainted child as well as putting him out of his self-made misery, was worth the price of my already tarnished soul.

Foolishly, I admit a small part of my heart hoped to hear otherwise, especially from a human being who held such high esteem in my eyes. Reality however quickly set in, and the answer I had dreaded to hear was staring me coldly in the face; it was the same answer my father had beaten into me so often, it became an intrinsic part of the fabric that made up who I became as a man and as a wizard; my worth was measured by the subservience and usefulness I offered others, nothing more. Simply put, I was _expendable. _It would do well to keep this in mind when you once again fall into saviour mode and attempt to render me a_ good man._

You inquired if I would begin corresponding with Draco. My initial response would be no, as I am already finding it difficult to maintain our own exchange. My missives are kept short because in addition to the arduous challenge of writing with shackled wrists, I also have very little light in my cell except for what dim rays manage to pass through the continuous darkened skies of the North Atlantic. As you know, I am only allowed writing material on a weekly basis, and what supplies I do garner are minimal at best.

Draco by nature is a highly intuitive person Mr Potter. As I am sure you can understand, he has endured enough loss and pain for one lifetime. The last thing he needs at this moment is to know the extremities to which I am suffering here, especially with the prospect of a fulfilling marriage in his future. I think for the time being, it would be best to keep my interactions with Draco to a minimum. As I recall, you offered to pass on any messages I might have for others. I will take credence in this and ask that you to relay to my godson I am immensely proud of him, and extend only best wishes for him and his intended.

You may find it surprising to learn that I have always considered Draco to be a far superior match for Miss Granger than that of the red haired buffoon. Draco and Miss Granger's highly intellectual standings coupled with their ambitious natures suit well, whereas Mr Weasley would have caused her razor sharp mind to dull from his excessively dim witted observations of life. There is also the undeniable fact that he would have eventually turned the witch into an incessant breeding tool for the next generation of Weasley spawn. I shudder to think of the wasted intelligence that hideous match would have caused.

As for your choice in life, it was not as unexpected as you might think.

Lily was exceptionally good at Potions as I am sure you are well aware. Both of us were part of Slughorn's ridiculous Slug Club. Although the gathering was nothing more than a conspicuous farce to rub elbows with people of influence, there were those select few who acquired entry just for their sheer brilliance in the art of brewing. Your mother and I were part of that rare coterie. Her exceptional talent in Potions gave her a very clear-cut path to fulfill her dream of becoming a Healer, something she spoke of quite often and with great enthusiasm. Due to the circumstances surrounding the war however, and having to retreat into hiding, those dreams were never brought to fruition.

I digress what was most unexpected was that you chose erudition over the quick and effortless road the Ministry was offering you like bait on a hook. I will begrudgingly admit I never expected you to complete your education, let alone sit your N.E.W.T.'s. Your mother would have been exceptionally proud of you Potter and I can only hope that you will continue to further your own expectations; for in doing so you are truly honouring the sacrifice your mother gave for your life.

I wonder if you are aware that you would have to apprentice with an actual Potions master for the last two years of your internship in order to complete the necessary training to become a Healer? Other than myself, (and we both know that is an impossibility), I know of only one other Potions master in Great Britain and he retired after the war. Do you plan on using your influential bravado to persuade him to come out of retirement as you once did, or will you be traveling outside of Britain for the rest of your training? Not that I care Potter, I am merely curious.

Before I close this missive, I will reiterate what I stated last time: forget this ludicrous crusade that you have started to acquire my release. I have done abhorrent acts which warranted my arrest, and it is only adequate that I give restitution for the crimes which I have committed. I may have been serving the light, but that does not excuse my actions, _war or not._

As a_ supposed_ Slytherin, you should understand exactly what that means.

Severus Snape


	5. Chapter 5

Harry Potter eyed the Minister for Magic sitting directly in front of him, and felt his heart sinking with every word spoken. Kingsley Shacklebolt looked like a man who had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and in all honesty he probably did. It was a position Harry didn't envy in the least. Regardless, Shacklebolt's battles were not his concern.

_Severus Snape's however were, and Harry had every intention of winning this one small battle no matter how long it took them._

Hermione Granger who sat on his right, looked equally determined as did Draco Malfoy who sat on his left protruding an air of confidence Harry sorely wished he felt. The three of them had used their respective influential pull as war heroes to request a special meeting with the minister to discuss the conditions of the high risk prisoners being held in Azkaban, especially one in particular.

_And all of them knew who it was, even if names weren't mentioned._

Hermione had just finished a passionate lecture on the demoralization which constant beatings and starvation could inflict upon the prisoners after their release from Azkaban, when Shacklebolt held up a hand to call for silence.

As quiet blanketed the large office, Shacklebolt's dark eyes met each respective person, before finally coming to rest on Harry's emerald glare. He sighed heavily.

'We all know what this is about Harry, so let's drop the charade, please,' Shacklebolt said with a wave of his hand in Harry's direction. 'This is about Severus Snape.' He steepled his fingers and rested his forehead against them wearily. ' I have told you many times before, when it comes to Severus, as much as I would like to help him, I cannot. You know as well as I do that the Wizengamot wants to make him a prime example of how justice is being served in the wizarding community. There is nothing more I can…'

'Justice!' Harry spat as he stood up, fists clenched and shaking with pent-up frustration. 'How can you call this justice? You know the man was a spy for the Order of the Phoenix! He risked his own life time and again to bring us the information that saved people's lives! I even conveyed to you portions of the memories Severus had left me...under Veritaserum no less! You heard Dumbledore's portrait speak in his defence! You also…'

Hermione reached up to gently pull Harry back down before his anger could boil over into something that would make this meeting deteriorate even further than it already had. Playing the political arena was not one of Harry's fortes, and both she and Draco knew if Harry did not follow proper protocol, then Severus Snape would never acquire the help that he needed. Giving Harry's shoulder a firm squeeze to remind him of this, Hermione's met Harry's eyes with a pleading look.

'Harry, you know the Wizengamot will not allow portraits to testify, nor will they allow Pensieve memories as evidence due to the constant factors of possible alteration within the memory itself,' she said with a shake of her bushy head. Every time they met with the minister it was the same argument. Dumbledore had left no viable evidence to support Snape's defence after his death, never considering that his spy might somehow survive the war. Snape was truly in a difficult situation, and even Hermione, who was studying Wizarding Law, could see as such. The only reason the Potions master had received a five-year sentence instead of life imprisonment had been due to Harry's testimony and influence_. The boy who lived _still held some power, but even he couldn't take away the public's distrust and hate for Severus Snape. The wizarding world wanted retribution for Albus Dumbledore's death, as well all the heinous crimes committed by Voldemort's followers, and Snape represented that faction, whether he committed the crimes or not. To appease the public's hunger for justice, The Wizengamot had tried and convicted the former headmaster who himself did not put up any form of defence during his trial. If it had not been for Harry's passionate testimony, Severus Snape would have received a life sentence, and this meeting wouldn't be taking place.

Hermione continued to rub Harry's arm soothingly while watching his anger slowly dissipate into the usual shadow of defeat. She pinched her lips into a grim line.

_It was the same every time._

Draco watched the scene being played out before him in silence before finally turning unreadable eyes toward the minister, his hands folded calmly on his lap.

'Perhaps there is nothing we can do at the moment regarding Severus' early release, but surely Minister Shacklebolt, there must be something that can be done concerning his deteriorating living conditions? The man will not survive his sentence if he cannot acquire the fundamental necessities that every human being needs to sustain their sanity and health. It seems to me that the purpose of this continued negligence is so that Severus _will_ _not_ survive, either by losing his faculties, or by succumbing to his vile surroundings, thus appeasing the public's cry for _justice righteously served_,' Draco said as he tapped Shacklebolt's desk lightly, his grey eyes narrowing for the kill.

Shacklebolt's face flushed with anger as he sat rigidly on the end of his chair, eyes blazing. 'Just what are you _suggesting_ Mr Malfoy?' he asked enunciating each word coldly.

'Nothing at all minister. At least nothing that we do not already know,' Draco said as he stood up and leaned heavily over the huge walnut desk bringing his face mere inches from the minister's. 'Make no mistake Minister Shacklebolt, I am not proud of the fact my parents bought their way out of Azkaban. If I could incarcerate them in place of my godfather, I would do so without any hesitation,' Draco hissed angrily, his eyes cold as grey steel. Just as quickly as his rage ignited however, it immediately vanished and was replaced by his usual expression of stoic calm. He reclaimed his seat and moved his gaze to hold each person in turn before finally settling on the minister. 'None of this bureaucratic bickering will help my godfather Minister Shacklebolt. Harry is correct even if his method of communication leaves something to be desired. The reality of the situation is that Severus Snape needs immediate assistance, or the Ministry will undoubtedly have to face murder charges based on brutality and neglect.'

Shacklebolt closed his eyes and sat back, his face looking suddenly weary and defeated.

'I have nothing against Severus Snape, you all know this. If I could help the man, I would do everything in my power to do so, but even the Minister for Magic has his limits. I heard Harry's speech after Voldemort's defeat, and I spoke to Albus' portrait myself, so I know what you speak is the truth, however my hands are tied politically. Each of you are old enough to understand that the world runs on politics not love, something Albus and I always argued to a stalemate. What else can I do?'

Draco flicked his eyes toward Hermione and Harry, who seemed to nod in consent, before continuing.

'I am uncertain if you were aware Minister Shacklebolt, but I had recently purchased the Daily Prophet, and as you know, our former schoolmate and a good friend of Harry's, Miss Luna Lovegood owns and runs The Quibbler. We have been in negotiations to merge the two papers together to form one that would finally bear truthful and informative information to the wizarding world at large.'

Shacklebolt's eyes widened with surprise.

'Are you threatening me Mr Malfoy?'

'No he isn't Kingsley!' Harry spoke up before Draco could answer. 'All he's using are political tactics just like you would. I reckon the Wizengamot wouldn't be pleased to have so much public scrutiny raining down on them concerning their rather..._negligent_ policies on human rights. Prisoners or not, a scandal is still a scandal, no matter how you look at it. Trust me I know from experience.' Harry's lips twitched up, emboldened by the somber expression on the minister's face. 'Rest assured, I have no problem lending my _celebrity status _to speak out if it will help us achieve our goal of maintaining humane standards for _all_ prisoners regardless of who they are or what crimes they may have committed.' A definite smirk now played across Harry's lips as he continued. 'Besides, with reelection commencing right around the corner, this could work in _your _favour too…_Minister _Shacklebolt,' Harry said confidently, his green eyes glittering for the first time since walking into the minister's office.

Shacklebolt sat for a long time contemplating the three young people in front of him. They were certainly not the innocent students they had been two years before. They were learning how to play the game, and in many ways, it saddened him greatly. He wished it didn't have to come to this, but in order to survive in a postwar world that was trying to rebuild itself, he also had to toe the line and play just as hard. This was the reality of life that Albus Dumbledore could never understand. Was the love he preached so vehemently saving his former spy now?

Folding his hands over his desk, he eyed Harry thoughtfully.

_Perhaps in some small way, love may actually play a part in saving Severus Snape after all._

'It has not happened since the days of old, for the public as you can expect, has had little or no concern regarding the wellbeing of wizards or witches sentenced to Azkaban. Remember that most of them are there for legitimate reasons, lest we forget, however this is obviously a special case,' Shacklebolt said as he leaned forward locking eyes with the emerald that now held his own firmly. 'There is an obscure law which states families or spouses can request sponsorship for a prisoner being confined in Azkaban. If they could attain the sponsorship, they would be allowed to send the basic necessities such as blankets, food or toiletries on a monthly schedule. Circumstances permitting, one might even be allowed visitations on occasion.'

Harry felt as if he had just discovered the Philosopher's Stone all over again. Hope flooded him unlike anything he had ever felt aside from defeating Voldemort.

'When can I apply?' He practically shouted as he jumped out of his chair and slapped both hands on Shacklebolt's desk enthusiastically.

Hermione sighed in exasperation as she tried to pull Harry back down. _Again._

'Did you not hear what he said Harry? _Family and spouses only_. You are neither. Only Draco could apply for the sponsorship because he is Professor Snape's' godson. That would be acceptable wouldn't it Minister?' Hermione asked as she finally managed to get a stunned looking Harry back into his seat.

Shacklebolt cast Harry a curious glance before nodding his consent toward Draco.

'Yes, I believe godparents are considered family Miss Granger.'

Draco let out a relieved sigh before turning to face his fiancée and her best friend knowing without a doubt that Harry would be severely disappointed. He did not exactly understand this growing obsession Harry had with his godfather, but at least they would be able to get Severus the necessities he needed. That was the more prudent aspect in Draco's mind. The rest of it could be sorted out later when he examined it further.

'Harry,' Draco started to speak, but Harry waved a hand to silence him before standing up and walking over to the large plate-glass window that covered half of Shacklebolt's office. He stared quietly into the distance for a few moments before squaring his shoulders and turning to speak with a calm he didn't feel.

'No, it's alright Draco. Severus will finally be able to get the necessities he needs to keep him sane and alive, that's all I care about. In all honesty it doesn't matter who brings him his care package as long as he receives it. Besides, you're his godson, and I'm quite sure he would rather see you than this irritating Gryffindor.' Harry gave a small laugh before turning once again to gaze out the window at the populace spread before him. Did any of them even know how much their freedom was worth? Did they even appreciate it? With a sigh, Harry continued. 'I still have my correspondence with Severus, and if he chooses to write back, well then, that's enough for me. Please, let's just get the paperwork started so that you can hopefully bring him something within the next few days.' Harry schooled his face into one of purpose before turning around to meet the eyes of his companions. He didn't understand why he felt as if his heart was shattering. It shouldn't matter to him _who_ brought Severus the necessities he needed as long as he received them, right?

_And yet, it did matter. It mattered more than he would ever admit to himself or anyone else._

Draco and Hermione exchanged a private look before nodding in agreement, and the three of them set to work with Minister Shacklebolt to make Draco Malfoy Severus' new sponsor.


	6. Chapter 6

_***Author's Note***_

_**This chapter is again one of those 'behind the scenes' chapters that are needed in order to fully understand the correspondence that will take up the majority of the story. I also wanted to set up the dynamics between Severus and Draco, for their relationship will be a very important element in what will eventually bring Severus and Harry together.**_

_**The next chapter will be back to the correspondence, in fact it is already written. I am just adjusting it here and there...**_

_**A huge thanks to all the people who have submitted reviews as well as adding my story to their favourites. As a writer, it means so much to be able to get feedback either positive or critical. It encourages me to write better.**_

_**Off we go!**_

Draco Malfoy waited for his godfather in the confined visitors'sitting-room of Azkaban Prison; though how anyone could refer to it as a sitting-room was beyond him. The small enclosed area consisted of nothing more than two rickety chairs and a dilapidated wooden table that had seen better days. The only reprieve came from a shred of dusty window which unfortunately defeated its own purpose by reminding Draco that the dismal North Sea surrounded the prison in an unrelenting chokehold. It felt like a prison within a prison.

How the Wizengamot could have sentenced his godfather to such a terrible place especially after discovering where his true loyalties lay, disturbed Draco greatly. His own parents, who were loyal to no one save themselves, were able to use their wealth and influence to escape this same fate, and it sickened him to think about it. Following their acquittal, he had made every effort to distance himself from the Malfoy name, especially after his betrothal to Hermione Granger. Harry, who had surprisingly become one of his staunchest supporters after the war, had kindly offered them the use of Grimmauld Place once he left to apprentice at Hogwarts in the fall. After discussing their options, he and Hermione had decided to accept Harry's offer and use it as a stepping stone to start a new life together outside of the Malfoy influence. Malfoy Manor, with its ghosts and hateful memories, would be sold before their marriage in the winter.

Shaking his head, Draco pulled his thoughts back to reality. As his slate grey eyes again took in his abysmal surroundings, he was actually relieved that Harry had been unable to apply for sponsorship due to not being a relative or spouse. If Harry had seen the environment in which Severus had to subsist, he probably would have attempted to break Severus out at the cost of _both_ their lives. Even though his wand would be confiscated at the check-in point, very few people really knew or understood just how powerful a wizard Harry Potter actually was. Casting nonverbal spells and using wandless magic was like child's play for him. Draco had witnessed it himself during the final battle.

_Azkaban, would not have stood a chance against the wizard who had defeated The Dark Lord. Even Draco was not foolish enough to deny this fact._

Having been taught the fine art of negotiations and politics from an early age, Draco still knew he was the better choice for Severus' sponsor. Harry being the perpetual Gryffindor, would have been too emotional to deal with these kinds of circumstances. Power did not always equate practicality or rationality.

_Draco however, knew exactly how to play the game, and he played it damn well. It was the only useful attribute his father had ever taught him._

There were times though when Draco wondered _why_ Harry was so concerned about a man who had made it a point in life to behave exceptionally cruel to the Gryffindor for the better part of his childhood. Perhaps it was the guilt in finding out the truth regarding Severus' loyalties which drove Harry to try to make amends with the man. If he were completely honest, it was almost an obsession for him in Draco's opinion.

The sudden sound of weighty footfalls coming his direction pulled Draco from this thoughts. He was getting ready to stand when the heavy iron door to the sitting-room was unceremoniously flung open, and two corpulent guards entered with Severus being half dragged between them. It was painfully obvious that Severus was unable to stand on his own.

Draco felt bile rise in his throat at the sight of just how deteriorated Severus had become in such a short amount of time, but he pushed it down quickly and schooled his face into one of immediate calm. If it was anything his godfather had taught him, it was how to mask his true feelings no matter what the situation was around him. This technique had saved his life on many occasions.

'Draco Lucius Malfoy?' The rotund guard to the left of Severus asked, eyeing the blonde with keen distrust.

Draco squared his shoulders, keeping his eyes firmly on the man addressing him.

'Yes, that is correct. I gave my wand and identification at the check-in as requested.'

The same guard sneered at him viciously, then spat in the corner of the room before shaking the helpless prisoner like a limp rag doll. Horrified, Draco made a move to help his godfather, but the other guard on Severus' right pulled out a thick wand and pointed it directly at Draco's chest.

'Step back or this visit will end before it begins,' the guard with the wand jeered, his watery eyes narrowing at Draco. 'Why a Death Eater even deserves visitors is beyond me. I reckon 'e should've been kissed long ago. Too bad the minister decided to get rid of 'em Dementors!' The guard did not put away his wand until reluctantly, Draco took several steps back, his expression stone.

Once again the two guards shook Severus violently, and this time he appeared to mumble something incoherent before attempting to stand on his own, but the effort was futile. The guard on Severus' left gripped his arm even harder causing the Potions master to whimper in distress before hissing, 'What was that again Death Eater? State yer name and number, or it's back to the cell with you! NOW SPEAK!'

Severus licked his cracked lips with a dry tongue and attempted to speak again. It had been almost two days without any real water except for the rain which seeped in through the age worn cracks throughout the ancient prison. He had been desperately trying to collect the moisture by pressing his parched mouth against the cold stone walls of his cell, waiting for the precious drops to trickle down.

'S-Sev-erus Sn-Snape. Nu-num-ber 0-8-091-94-0,' he rasped, praying they would finally let him sit down before he collapsed. He sagged against the guards, who shook him once again, forcing him back into a half-standing, half-leaning position. Slowly, he raised his head to look at his godson's face and his heart filled with dread at the horror etched in the grey eyes which contradicted with his exterior of calm. Severus lowered his head in humiliation, his face radiating shame. Why had those fools chosen to send the boy to this horrendous place? He should never be allowed to witness any of these atrocities. Severus had no doubt that Potter and his heroic band of friends were completely to blame.

'You know this prisoner 'ere then? State yer relationship,' the hefty guard asked directing his words at Draco with obvious distaste.

Draco pulled himself to his fullest height and held his head high; clear pride shining in the depths of his eyes.

'Yes, I know this man. His name is Severus Snape and I am exceptionally proud to call him my _godfather! _Now release him and allow the man to sit before I have words with the proper authorities regarding your abhorrent behaviour. Make no mistake gentlemen, I have exceptionally powerful friends to back me including that of the Minister for Magic himself,' Draco said with a steel in his voice that matched the coldness in his glare.

Both men sneered at Draco venomously. 'As you wish, _Lord Malfoy_,' mocked the guard on Severus' right making sure to pronounce the Malfoy name with undeniable contempt. Both guards then unshackled Severus at the same time releasing the frail wizard who immediately crumpled hard to the ground without their support.

Draco ran to his godfather's side, while the two sniggering guards made their way out of the room.

'One hour, _Lord Malfoy_,' the portly guard mocked with a showy bow, before slamming and warding the iron door behind him.

Upon their departure, Draco released the tension he'd been holding inside and knelt beside the broken man on the floor, pulling him without hesitation, into his arms.

'Severus,' he whispered quietly, knowing he couldn't find the proper words to speak. His entire life his godfather had been the epitome of strength, intelligence and control. To see this once powerful wizard reduced to nothing more than a shell of his former self was too much for Draco to bear, so he did the only thing he could do, and held the man closely, rocking back and forth soothingly as Severus had done for him many times in the past.

Initially Severus withdrew from the contact turning his head away as if fighting some kind internal struggle, but eventually Draco's persistence paid off and the older wizard slowly began to relax, allowing himself to receive the comfort he so desperately needed. Leaning into his touch, Severus laid his filthy head on Draco's shoulder and managed to rasp out one word, his long fingers curling into Draco's robes desperately.

_'Water.'_

Cursing himself for not having thought of it sooner, Draco Summoned the carefully prepared care package that was laid on the table. The medium-sized box had already gone through inspection, and thankfully nothing had been confiscated.

Pulling out a small self-filling flask of fresh water, he held it up to Severus' cracked lips and tilted it back slowly knowing full well that if he drank too much at one time, his stomach would reject it and he would likely end up vomiting and becoming even more dehydrated.

As the cool water slipped down his aching throat, Severus felt his body scream with agonizing thirst. He wanted desperately to grab the flask and drain it with long massive gulps until the flames of desiccation were quenched, but the logical side of his brain which still functioned knew that would be a mistake. Using what control he had left, Severus continued to lean on his godson and take portioned sips until finally, he began to feel the burning ache subside. Eventually with his thirst satiated, he looked up into Draco's concerned eyes with appreciation he could not voice into words.

Draco respected his godfather greatly and would never take advantage of the man's dignity, especially when compromised as it was now. Nodding his understanding, he gently helped the enervated wizard to his feet, and silently assisted him to one of the rickety chairs before taking the opposite. Knowing there wasn't much time left, he again Summoned the care package and proceeded to unwrap a few small sandwiches along with various fruits and cheeses, laying them out on the table with exceptional care. Upon seeing his godfather's ravenous expression, Draco turned away, and pretended to organize the contents of the package so that Severus wouldn't feel more shame than Draco already knew he was experiencing. Draco was certain the last thing Severus wanted was observation of him eating.

As his godfather began to invest himself soundly into what Draco was sure was his first solid meal in months, he made it a point to talk in order to fill in the awkward sounds of Severus rapidly scarfing down whatever food was within reach. He spoke about everything from politics to Quidditch, making sure to add in the details of what many Order members, as well as his former colleagues and students were doing to try to get his sentence revoked or reduced.

When Severus had eaten his fill, he pushed back his plate with a resigned sigh, and finally spoke. Though still ragged, Draco felt pleased to hear more strength in the once silky voice.

'Forgive me Draco. I never once expected you to come to this horrific place and see me in such a wretched state. I…I cannot even begin to imagine what you must think of me.'

Draco looked carefully into Severus' troubled eyes and for a moment thought he was joking, but when he realised Severus truthfully felt this way, he shook his head in frustration.

'Severus, _we are family_, and you are the only person _in_ my family who has ever cared about what happened to me. If it had not been for you Severus, I would have been dead long ago. How can you not see this?' He gave Severus a knowing look before adding carefully, 'Would you not do the same for me godfather if our roles had been reversed?'

Severus stared at Draco in stunned silence before attempting to counter his statement, but this time Draco would have none of it. He silenced the older wizard by placing a gentle hand on Severus' shoulder, never once allowing the shock of feeling protruding bones under the wizard's thin prison robes, to register on his face.

'Severus, you need to listen to me. The time has come for you to put aside this ridiculous pride you wear around you like a heavy cloak. I know why you do it, having done it myself, however it does nothing for you in the end. It was very difficult for me to give up the only shield I had left after suffering so much humiliation and loss, but eventually Severus, I had to let it go to get the help I needed to move on with my life.' Draco let a genuine smile settle on his lips. 'If it were not for Hermione and many others, I would not be sitting here in front of you today. These are good people godfather, and they genuinely _do _care about what happens to you and me. You have no idea how many people are fighting on your side Severus. You are not as alone as you believe yourself to be,' Draco said before pulling out a thick packet from inside his robes and sliding it gently across the table. Severus picked up the heavy parchment knowing without words who it was from. He fingered the wax seal that represented the Potter crest for a moment before carefully tucking it into his care package to read later in his cell.

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed between the two men with Severus lost in his own thoughts while Draco discreetly observed him. Eventually, Draco cleared his throat and broke the silence.

'He wanted to be the one to come here you know,' Draco said quietly. 'You have no idea how hard he fought for this Severus. I thought he was literally going to hex Shacklebolt at one point. It took both Hermione and I to restrain him,' Draco recounted, rolling his eyes at the memory.

Severus' lips tugged lightly up at the corners as he envisioned Potter hexing the minister on his account.

'Typical emotional Gryffindor,' Severus sniffed.

'Indeed.' Draco agreed.

It was then they heard the heavy footsteps of the guards approaching.

Draco instinctively reached across the table and grasped his godfather's grimy hands. Surprised, Severus attempted to quickly pull them away but Draco held on firmly, a defiant look in his grey eyes.

'We are not giving up on you Severus, and in spite of what you may think godfather, I do love you.' _And I am quite sure I'm not the only one, _thought Draco with a sudden smirk.

Severus' mouth hung open in astonishment at Draco's sudden outburst. Shamefully, he felt dampness begin to gather at the corners of his dark eyes.

'Draco, I—'

At that exact moment, the cell door slammed open making both men jump in their respective chairs. Draco closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose unconsciously mimicking his godfather's habit when greatly irritated, and silently cursed at the guards' terrible timing.

The heftier one of the two entered first, holding up Severus' iron shackles in his thick hand. Its chains echoed off the walls with a brutal finality that filled the tiny room. 'Yer outta time _Lord Malfoy_. Stand up and face the wall Snape!'

Severus met his godson's eyes one last time, hoping to convey in his expression what he had been unable to voice out loud.

_Gratitude._

Draco nodded his understanding, his slate grey eyes never leaving Severus' black.

'I will see you next month godfather. The care package should last until then. Be well.'

Severus nodded in return, before lowering his eyes and standing. Carefully, he walked to the wall and braced himself against it before he was roughly shackled then dragged from the room, his care package floating behind the guards.

Draco stayed seated in the rickety chair long after his godfather had been taken away. He stared into the stormy seas outside of the tiny window until it was too dark to see where the sky ended and the sea began.

Finally when he could bear no more, he stood up and slowly made his way to the check-in point to retrieve his wand, his mind heavy with thoughts.

All he wanted at this moment was to go home and lay in the safety of Hermione's arms, praying that her love would be enough to ease the horrors he would be facing every month until his godfather was finally free.

_And he would be free. One day, Severus Snape would walk again as a free man bound to no one. It was a vow Draco would never break to himself or to Severus._

With that last thought, he exited the prison and strode towards the harbour to board the ship that would take him to a freedom he now appreciated with greater respect.


	7. Chapter 7

Prisoner 08091940- Severus Snape

Cell 42D-High Risk Security

Azkaban Prison- Great Sea, North Atlantic

08/Februaray/1999

Professor Snape,

If you're reading this letter that means you know we've gained a small victory in a war I fully intend to win. If you have any objections, blame it on my Slytherin need to look after my own mixed with pure Gryffindor stubbornness.

_It would seem that mixing Slytherin and Gryffindor tendencies creates a brilliant team wouldn't you say sir? I'm certain Draco and Hermione would wholeheartedly agree._

As I'm sure Draco explained to you, the three of us met with Minister Shacklebolt regarding your situation. Now before you start lambasting my Gryffindor heroism, this isn't just about you Professor Snape. You're not the only prisoner suffering from abuse and neglect. As much as you detested my godfather, Sirius was living proof of how subsisting under such brutal conditions can render a person upon release. After Sirius escaped from Azkaban, he may have been free of the fortress itself, but in reality he was still a kept prisoner in his own tormented mind. Not too long after he died, Remus admitted to me that falling into the Veil had ended much of the suffering and anguish which ravaged him daily. I'll never forget the way Remus cried, his face buried in his hands, when he told me it was almost a relief that his friend was finally at peace.

_I don't ever want what happened to Sirius to happen to you Professor Snape. I won't allow it._

All people, regardless of their reasons for incarceration, deserve the fundamental rights to water, food, and sanitary living conditions. Essential rights and equality are what we're fighting for sir, you're simply the catalyst who started us on this road. I understand these changes are not going to occur overnight, but at least we've found a way to crack open a door that's been firmly shut for centuries regarding how the wizarding world treats its prisoners.

_Take baby steps along the way, and eventually you will still reach your goal._

To be truthful sir, the beginning of our meeting didn't exactly go as planned. Actually, it's been a long-standing joke between Hermione and myself that our plans never seem to work out the way we want them to. We usually formulate a strategy, then all hell breaks loose when we try to implement it. This time was no exception of course, but at least Draco managed to turn the tables in our favour. I may not always agree with his methods, but I will admit the ferret definitely has talent in the art of vocal persuasion. After Shacklebolt felt sufficiently backed into a corner, he decided to throw us a bone by revealing a little known loophole which allows relatives or spouses of those incarcerated to apply for sponsorship. In this way, the prisoner can receive basic provisions by owl or through monthly visitations. Along with the benefit of being able to see you face to face, none of us trusted our packages to be delivered to you intact without the guards rummaging through them, so we all agreed that monthly visits were the answer. Draco immediately applied, and was instated as your sponsor.

I suppose it's no secret how disappointed I was that I couldn't apply for your sponsorship. Though I'm not stupid enough to believe you'd want to lay eyes on me, I still would've welcomed the opportunity to deliver your care packages in person. Even though I can pack them along with everyone else, it's not the same for me professor. I'm sure this sounds ridiculous, but being your sponsor would have made me feel as if I was doing something more than just putting quill to parchment.

_Yes, I'm fully aware of what an emotional dunderhead I am, however I make no apologies for it. I am what I am, and that isn't going to change anytime soon, so you may as well get used to it._

Moving on, let me briefly explain the contents of the package and who packed what, because if don't, it's my head on a platter. (And I'm sure you'd have no problem visualizing that with great relish sir.)

Molly made all the food, which includes a variety of sandwiches, dried meats, and simple pasties that will keep well under the brief Stasis Charm we placed over them. It wears off over time, so each serving is tagged according to date that way you'll know which to eat first. Since there's a restriction on how much we can send at one time, we made sure to pack enough for one small meal each night.

Hermione gathered together the cheeses, fruits and nuts. Actually, she created charts for each of one us to make sure you'd be receiving a well-balanced and nutritional diet which would include every kind of nutrient you're probably missing, even factoring in the minimal amount of sunlight you receive and the salt content in the air. Please professor, no comments. I've known Hermione for almost nine years, and you're not going to say anything I don't already know, however she does mean well. I honestly don't know what we would do without her, charts and all.

Draco and Professor McGonagall created the self-refilling flask. It will never run out of fresh water, which means you can also use it to help with basic sanitary needs. We included a stack of flannels for such purposes. Just send them back with Draco when you exchange the package each month so we can replace them with fresh ones.

I'm sorry sir, but there was nothing we could do about the prison robes. Unfortunately, all outer wear must be issued by Azkaban.

Finally, there are the items I packed. The things I chose were not meant to feed the hunger of your body, but that of your mind. Mental stability is just as important, and perhaps in some ways even more important than physical stability. I can't even imagine the excruciating hours of isolation and darkness you have to endure daily. My goal was to make the long stretches of time more bearable in any way possible. Since you're not allowed to receive anything that has significant magical properties attributed it, I had to think very carefully before finally coming up with some items that would adhere to Azkaban's restrictions, while also being useful. I believe you'll be quite pleased with what I've come up with professor.

First is a small unbreakable lantern. Its illumination will not come from fire or magic, but by the power of the brightest star in the sky: the sun. It uses a Muggle technology called solar energy. If you put the lantern by your window all day, at night it should glow steadily with enough light for you to write or perhaps read for a few hours, which is why I included some books I thought you would enjoy. Feel free to send me a list of reading material you'd like sent in your next package. As long as the books don't contain magical properties, I reckon they'll pass through inspection without a problem.

Second, is a small leather-bound journal that I thought would be helpful for jotting down feelings or ideas, anything that comes to mind really. I find the writing process quite cathartic in helping me to cope with a lot of the stress or nightmares I deal with on a daily basis, so I considered it might help you as well. Since quill and ink are not allowed unless under strict supervision, you'll find a Muggle ballpoint pen tucked inside the binding. I can replace it as needed.

Last is the one item you were probably not expecting: a simple quilt, and yet not so simple in nature. Perhaps you'll recognise it Professor Snape, for it belonged to my mother.

Remus gifted the quilt to me during my third year at Hogwarts when he was teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. He'd saved it for many years always wondering when would be the proper time to present it to me. As it turned out, he'd have his chance sooner than he anticipated, just not in the way he expected.

I was exceptionally sensitive to the Dementors that were stationed at the school that year due to Sirius' escape. No matter what I did, I couldn't block out the intense feelings of oppression and hopelessness that surrounded them. If they were anywhere near me, I usually felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair so thick, I couldn't pull myself out of it. There were times I could even hear a woman screaming as her life was taken from her. I have no way to prove this, but I know in my heart the woman I was hearing was probably my mother. Most of the time, it was too overwhelming, and I usually ended up slipping into unconsciousness. Remus saw the effects the Dementors had on me firsthand and knew I needed help to shield myself from them, so he decided to teach me the Patronus Charm. Trust me when I say that learning it was no easy matter for either of us.

One evening after a particularly difficult lesson on creating a corporeal Patronus, he left the room without a word only to return moments later with the thick quilt draped over his arm. We had been going at it for weeks by this point and I was feeling incredibly frustrated and depressed because I could not think of a single memory which contained enough joy for me to cast my Patronus. I was on the verge of giving up completely, when Remus sat next to me and presented the age worn quilt, which he laid in my hands with the utmost reverence.

It's difficult to express with words what receiving such a significant token meant to me. Holding mum's quilt was literally like having a piece of her within reach; a living memory if you will. As I wrapped the soft quilt around myself, Remus indicated that her mother,_ my grandmother_, had made it for her as a child, and that it was always spread over her bed. Somehow the quilt was loaned to Remus during one of his visits to my parents' home in Godric's Hollow, but he never had the chance to return it before tragedy struck. I won't deny how extremely grateful I was that he'd saved the quilt all those years because if he hadn't, I would never have come into possession of it.

Needless to say, I now had the memory I needed to cast my Patronus. I could imagine mum wrapping me in her childhood quilt as she rocked me to sleep, or perhaps whispered stories by the glow of candlelight as she fed me. I wasn't even sure if the memories were real or only in my head, but they was enough for me to Summon my first corporeal Patronus successfully.

Though I loved the quilt dearly, as I grew older I began to feel silly wrapping myself in it, especially as a teenage boy in our dorm, although I would always lay it across my bed so I could see it. It brought a warmth and comfort to my life that nothing else could provide.

_I have no doubt professor, that you're one of the only people who could ever understand what that means to me._

Since the day Remus gave it to me all those years ago, I've never slept without it. Even when I was hunting Horcruxes, the quilt went with me, resting on the cot in our tent.

Now I am loaning it to you Professor Snape.

I have a feeling that mum would have wanted it this way as well. I don't have many things that remind me of her professor, but what I do have I'm willing to share with you, because I understand. I expect you to return it to me when you leave Azkaban, which means you can't give up fighting sir. The only time I want to see that quilt again, is when you're personally handing it to me as a free man, and not before.

_I am holding you to this._

It's very hard for me to read how harshly you judge yourself, feeling that no matter what you do, you'll never be able to make up for your past mistakes. It's even worse to realise you really believe you're only as good as what you can offer people, and that your soul has little or no value.

_You are wrong Professor Snape, and so was Dumbledore for telling you such rot! It saddens me greatly to think that even with as much brilliance and power as Professor Dumbledore once had, he could still be so completely blind at the most crucial times._

I have never met a more selfless, brave or loyal individual than you Severus Snape. Sneer and scoff all you want, but I know the truth, as do the friends who continue to fight for you. Don't you see sir? You've been conditioned to think this way, because that's exactly what you've been told your whole life, even by those you trusted like Dumbledore! I'm going to do everything in my power to change those views because if you continue thinking with that same frame of mind, then everything you did; everything you suffered and sacrificed, was all for nothing! Don't let those words, whether they came from my dad, Voldemort or even Dumbledore, taint all the good you've accomplished in your life. That goodness overshadows the darkness with the brilliant light which is inside you; the light that is your very soul. I see it clear as crystal, and one day Professor Snape, you will too, I swear it.

_If you should fall, I will catch you. I meant what I said._

It's time to rise above those hateful words and prove them all wrong! I want to help you sir, but it will be an impossible task if you're already defeated from within. I believe in you Professor Snape, but nothing will change, until you start believing in yourself.

_"To conquer oneself is the best and noblest victory; to be vanquished by one's own nature is the worst and most ignoble defeat." -Plato_

Harry Potter

* * *

_Severus sat on his ragged cot and reread the letter many times. He didn't stop until the sun dipped into the raging sea, and his cell was once again shrouded in darkness._

_For a long time he sat in the stifling gloom unmoving, his emotions in complete turmoil. Anger, fear, self-loathing, confusion, even the foreign feeling of hope stormed inside of him, matching the crashing waves pounding against the stone walls. Finally too numb to feel anything else, welcome exhaustion won out._

_Carefully, he reached inside his care package for the lantern that Harry had sent him. Standing up, he shuffled slowly to the solitary window in the room, and placed the lantern on the sill. Though it stood out as a dark silhouette against the bars, he knew by tomorrow night it would be glowing like a small beacon of hope._

_Making his way back to the filthy cot, he took out the heavy quilt and wrapped himself shamelessly inside of it, curling into a tight ball so its softness would cover him completely. Yes, he remembered this quilt very well. He had seen it on Lily's bed many times when they had been friends, and was stunned that it still existed._

_As a peaceful serenity he had not felt in decades began to wash over him, he inhaled deeply of the quilt bringing to mind thoughts of sunshine, spring rain and something else he could not quite place. It wrapped around his mind and embraced his heart warmly._

_As Severus slowly drifted into sleep, Harry's letter still clutched in his hand, a small part of his brain realised that it had not been Lily he had been thinking of, but Harry; for the scent on the quilt was distinctly his._

_For the first time since his arrival in Azkaban, Severus Snape slept peacefully throughout the night._


	8. Chapter 8

Harry James Potter

12 Grimmauld Place

London, United Kingdom

22/ February/ 1999

Mr Potter,

I suppose your Gryffindor necessity to play the hero is the reason my stomach is somewhat sated, my thirst quenched and my cell lit to a reasonable degree.

I implied at a possible correspondence between us, never expecting a cavalry charge of inconsequential do-gooders to follow in your wake. Are you too obtuse to comprehend that your pity is neither warranted nor desired? Does it escape what little brain you have been given that I loathe your sanctimonious and pathetic attempts to redeem a life that is bereft, let alone a soul? Stop playing god Mr Potter. Perhaps your adoring public soaks up that ludicrous codswallop, but I for one abhor your self-righteous attempts at portraying yourself as everyone's supposed saviour. Open your eyes and see the truth for what it is; there is naught left to save, you impetuous imbecile!

In addition to the pandemonium you have already caused, how could you intentionally allow my godson to visit this abhorrent place? He did not deserve to witness the horrors which infest every aspect of this hell. Did you not even consider that Draco has lost his entire family to the Dark Lord due to their own pretentiousness and idiocy?

Because of your insatiable need to bask in the glow of your own holier-than-thou divinity, Draco can now have the exquisite pleasure of reliving how his family's mistakes have failed him in every way possible. Each time he is forced to visit I can be his visual reminder of everything he has lost.

_And it is all thanks to you. Well done Mr Potter. Whom shall the chosen one select to destroy next?_

What will it take for you to recognise the man rotting in this cell is neither worth your time nor expenditure? Most people in the wizarding world, including your mother and Albus Dumbledore already understood this, but for some unfathomable reason, you cannot seem to get it through that thick ignoramus skull of yours.

In case you have suffered a recent lapse of memory, there is a reason I am here Mr Potter. You can relive my memories and gloriously spin my tale into a tragic fantasy of unrequited love and redemption, but no matter how you cover my life with your smokescreen of heroic martyrdom clichés, the simple truth of the matter is I am a murderer Potter, and not just of the great Albus Dumbledore or Lily Potter and her saintly husband, but hundreds of others. I have done despicable acts as a Death Eater that would make the Dark Lord look tame since it was he who sent his trusted followers to do his dirty work for him. Whether I am repentant or not is inconsequential. The innocent victims whose lives I took cannot be brought back from the grave, nor can their torture be undone. I am the cause of many of those incidents Potter, and nothing the saviour of the wizarding world can say or do, will ever change those facts.

Stop wasting other people's time with this foolish nonsense, and let this preposterous charade go Mr Potter. Cancel these senseless monthly visits so Draco can concentrate on his fiancée and finally live his life in peace. As I told you once before, if you truly want to make up for the anguish others have endured for this war, then live a life well spent and full of purpose. Your mother would have wished for nothing more than this.

I will end this correspondence with a quote, since you insisted on regaling me with your inept attempt at wisdom. Here is some for you Potter:

_"Don't fear failure so much that you refuse to try new things. The saddest summary of a life contains three descriptions: could have, might have, and should have". Louis E. Boone_

My life contains all three elements Mr Potter. That should be explanation enough.

Severus Snape

* * *

22, February, 1999

I sent Potter my reply today. I will admit in this journal that it was difficult for me to pen such cruel words to the boy, especially knowing all he has done for me. I am certain I sounded ungrateful and exacting, however his opinion of me matters little as long as he abandons his foolhardy plans to save what cannot be saved and focus instead on his own life. He owes himself and his mother so much more than wasting his efforts, and those of others, on someone who is already dead.

Hopefully he will read the missive for what it is and discard this idiotic notion of trying to free me. These children, and that is exactly what they are; mere children between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, have enough on their plates trying to reestablish their lives in a postwar world without having to add the burden of my own failed existence to it.

There is not a day that passes where I do not recall the horror etched in Draco's eyes at seeing the wretchedness of my circumstances. I never wanted any of them to see me like this, least of all my godson. Regardless, it would have been far worse had it been Lily's son who stood before me that day. Having those soulful eyes look upon my person in this state of deterioration would have been too much for me to bear. I never want Harr- Potter to witness the frightfulness of this vile place. Hopefully my acerbic words will keep him at bay. He was fearful of them once before, and I can only pray the boy has not grown up enough to see past the only defence I have left. He has seen enough atrocities to last several lifetimes, and I refuse to add to that burden.

When did I start to think of him as Harry and not Potter in my mind? I cannot recall anymore as one day drifts into the next in a seemingly endless paradox. The only reason I know the passage of time now, is because of Potter's lantern. During the day it sleeps and absorbs the few rays of dismal sun that manage to penetrate this wasteland of gloom, but during the night it awakens, filling this wretched cell with a soft illumination that drives away the misery and despair which cling to one's soul, much like the vile Dementors that use to dominate this prison. Humiliating as it sounds, the lantern has become my beacon of hope along with Lily's quilt.

I am well aware that I should never have laid my repugnant hands on that exquisite gift. The correct action would have been to leave it wrapped safe and untainted inside of the package and then return it to Har- Potter through Draco next month. Unfortunately, the weak coward inside of me could not withstand so tempting a treasure, so I sit here now writing by lantern light on my fetid cot with the quilt's sweet warmth wrapped around my shivering form. It no longer smells of Potter or the outside world, but its softness and memories are desperately needed, not to warm my body, but to shelter what bit of soul I have retained. I feel mortified that I need something as pathetic as a quilt, and yet I cannot let it go. It will be all I have left of him once he receives my offensive missive.

It is for the best.

I need to believe this.

~SS

(Journal of Severus Snape, Azkaban Prison- Entry One)


	9. Chapter 9

Prisoner 08091940- Severus Snape

Cell 42D-High Risk Security

Azkaban Prison- Great Sea, North Atlantic

25/Februaray/1999

Professor Snape,

Nice try sir, fortunately your ire doesn't bother me like it used to. Draco warned me in advance to expect a letter of this magnitude, so I wasn't surprised when it arrived. I've decided the best way to deal with your accusations and self-loathing is to face them head on so we can avoid further misunderstandings between us. To be quite honest, I'm rather tired of these attacks and would prefer our correspondence not be reduced to immature name calling and self-pity tirades.

Let's cover the facts shall we?

First, I'm hardly a hero and you know very well that I loathe being treated as one. Second, the things I do for you I would do for anyone in your position whom I consider a friend. I know you would feel the same way about those who have your regard, having demonstrated it numerous times.

_Snakes look after their own, do they not?_

As for Draco, regardless of your preconceived notions, I didn't force or coerce him into becoming your sponsor. (Do you really believe that anyone could force Draco Malfoy into doing something he didn't want to? Give me a little credit please.) He insisted on applying for your sponsorship, and as your godson has the_ legal _right to do so. He's an adult in his own right and has been for well over two years now; mentally probably far longer considering the circumstances he's had to live through. Draco has every right to make his own decisions regarding his family and _you_ are considered a part of that family. If you don't want him to visit you in Azkaban, than tell him so yourself, but I doubt he would listen.

When are you going to get it through your own thick skull that we're not going to let this go? Nobody is going to abandon you to this unjust fate! You no longer stand alone as you once did, no matter what you continue to tell yourself.

_I reckon I'll just have to keep reminding you with each letter I send._

I understand how deeply you're haunted by your past transgressions, but belaboring the point each time you write only serves to reopen old wounds which are trying to heal. As I said before and will continue to say until I can no longer draw air, you have more than made up for any wrongdoings in your past. If you don't want to forgive yourself, then there's nothing more I can do on the matter. I certainly can't force you, however know that others have already done so, and are ready to put it behind them.

The way I see it, you have two choices: You can continue to tread down the road of regrets and imprison yourself behind walls of guilt and self-deprecation _or_ you can choose to put your past behind you, and start a new path of your own built by the choices _you_ make; not Dumbledore, not Voldemort, but YOU.

In each of your letters, you remind me not to let my mother's love or sacrifice go in vain, but what about you? Don't you think you're being a bit hypocritical? If you choose to throw your life away because of regret and shame than you're also taking in vain all those who have died and sacrificed to see an end to this war. Since you continue to use my mum against me, I'll tell you what else I believe; despite all her faults, I know in my heart she would have wanted to see you happy, especially if she knew everything you had to endure and sacrifice in order to keep her son safe. If you choose to rot in prison, than you are just as guilty of doing her sacrifice an injustice.

The reality is your prison isn't just confined to Azkaban anymore. Even if you were granted a full pardon tomorrow, you would still be held prisoner by the walls you've built around yourself, brick by brick. It's not bound in the north within the sea ravaged stones of Azkaban or even in the south within the castle where you were forced to take the life of your mentor. It's everywhere you go Professor Snape. Because no matter where you run, you're always going to end up running into yourself.

I'm sure you expected your letter to rile me up so I would be angry and desist writing you. Well I'm sorry to thwart your plans but as you very well know, I'm a Gryffindor which means I'm stubborn and persistent to a fault, but even more than that, I think there's also something else you need to realise;

_I've grown-up Severus._

Yes, I'm also going to start using your given name because it's about time. You're no longer my professor Severus and I'm tired of addressing you as such. You're my friend first and foremost, even if I'm not yours, and I _don't_ call my friends by titles.

I will close this letter with another quote since we've grown so fond of using them.

_"All the adversity I've had in my life, all my troubles and obstacles has strengthened me… You may not realise it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you." - Walt Disney_

I'm going to be that kick in your teeth Severus, so you better get used to it.

Harry

* * *

_3/ March/ 1999_

_He is impetuous, arrogant, insurgent, stubborn and pigheaded, just to name a few of the lovelier qualities that make up the core of Harry-bleeding heart-Potter. Unfortunately none of those are even his worst trait. That alone is auspiciousness. He truly believes that only good things will come out of all this, and like the good Gryffindor that he is, retains hope for this damned soul called Severus Snape._

_I have reread his letter so many times I have memorised the pauses where he dips his quill into the inkwell._

_Yes, that is how low and pathetic I have sunk._

_I cling to his words like a man parched for water. I cannot help but feel overwhelmed by the hope that pulsates like a living vein every time he puts ink to parchment. I have tried everything in my power to push him away and to cease making me another one of his charity cases, but he refuses to listen to me._

_I do not frighten him anymore._

_He called me Severus._

_He has matured far beyond what I expected._

_Perhaps the problem therein lies with me. I cannot fathom Harry Potter as an adult. I cannot even write his given name without crossing it out._

_Who is the child now?_

_I want to believe him, but my mind cannot accept this kind of benevolence. There is clearly something he wants and I intend to find out what it is. Nobody does anything without a motive. I have been vindictive and cruel to him for most of his youth, so there should be no reason as to why he would want to help his cantankerous old Potions professor. Certainly knowing my true loyalties cannot make up for all the years of pain and abuse I have caused him?_

_Impossible._

_No, he must truly be seeking something vital which only I can provide, or perhaps it is mere remorse? Why else would all the others be helping him? Minerva, Granger, Draco, the Order….perhaps they feel the need for penitence after discovering the truth which Dumbledore refused to acknowledge regarding my loyalties._

_Sometimes I wish I had never left those damn memories to Potter, or at the very least had died after bestowing them. My survival is still a mystery even to me, but one I shall need to solve if I am ever released from this abysmal hell. How can I possibly 'put things behind me' as Potter so idiotically states, without knowing if I owe yet another a life debt? My entire existence thus far has revolved around owing someone in one form or another. I have never known what it is to taste the sweetness of true freedom. The bars of this cell are only a façade for the true imprisonment my life has been ever since I was put on this wretched earth. Once again the boy has proven he is far more cognizant of things than I give him credit for._

_Perhaps that is part of my problem. Ha-Potter is no more a boy than I am, and yet it frightens me to think of him as anything but the insolent child from his youth. This adult, intelligent young man is something I cannot wrap my mind around. My feelings are torn in a way that has absolutely no frame of reference. It infuriates me that he is arrogant enough to use my given name without permission, yet I wonder what those three innocuous syllables would sound like falling from his lips…_

_NO! I must stop this insanity before it begins. He is a stupid, impudent boy, nothing more. He wants something, and this time, he shall get it._

_My lantern is fading fast, as dawn is slowly approaching. I shall write Potter later this evening, but this time I have a new tactic in approaching the whelp. I have an inkling as to what it is he seeks from me, and it makes perfect sense. He wants information about his parents, specifically his mother. I am certain once his knowledge of Lily is satisfied, Ha-Potter will finally end this preposterous game and leave me in peace._

_Perhaps that is what terrifies me the most._

_~SS_

_(Journal of Severus Snape, Azkaban Prison- Entry Two)_


	10. Chapter 10

Harry James Potter

12 Grimmauld Place

London, United Kingdom

2/ March/ 1999

Mr Potter,

I do not recall granting you allowance to use my given name. You seem to think this sudden declaration of your so-called maturity gives you the right to address or speak to me in any way you deem fit.

_I do not call that growing-up Potter, I call that pure arrogance._

I am finished with these idiotic games of yours. Since you are so adept at facing the facts, let us finally put aside this façade of a _mutual correspondence_ and discuss what these farcical missives are really leading up to. This pathetic charade you have built around wanting to help a man who not only spent the better part of your life taunting and ridiculing you, but is also a known murderer and Death Eater, is derisive and affronting to all parties involved. I will no longer tolerate your ludicrous dissimulation.

Do not dare paint my life as your tragic war hero of unrequited love whose soul Saint Potter has judged worthy of saving. If you knew the truth about the man you are trying to redeem, there is no doubt in my mind your superficial Gryffindor courage would expire and you would indubitably abscond to the safety of your now perfect life. Allow me to make some things crystal clear since you continually demonstrate how your brain is too swollen to comprehend or perform rational thinking.

_I do not need your help._

_I do not need your redemption._

_I do not need your nonsensical friends._

_Most important Mr Potter, __I do not need you__, and never shall._

Just because you saw a smattering of my memories does not make you knowledgeable of whom Severus Snape is. Your assumptive demeanor clearly dictates your presumptions notions of who you think I am, just like your arrogant father did. My my, how...typical. Congratulations Mr Potter, for you have proven without a doubt that the apple does not fall far from the tree.

_You know nothing of my life Potter._

_You know nothing about me._

The game is over, so let us face the facts of what we do know shall we?

It is _you_ Harry Potter who is seeking things from me, there is no sense in denying it any longer. Your misguided mind believes that by saving me from the hells of Azkaban, I will not only be indebted to you, but so utterly grateful that I would willingly wish to impart my knowledge of your mother with you.

_Finally, we come to the truth of all this ridiculous nonsense._

You want information about Lily Potter, perhaps even going so far as to seek out any findings you can pilfer regarding your worthless father. It does not surprise me in the least how far you would go to learn about your parents, even at the expense of another human being.

Very well then Mr Potter, you win.

In your next missive I will expect a list of ten questions. I will answer no more than that, so choose carefully Potter, because I will never give you this opportunity again. If you ignorantly wish to waste a question on your pompous father, that is your choice, however if I were you, I would keep the questions limited to your mother. You already know how I feel about James Potter. The only positive thing I can attribute to the man other than his demise, is that fact that he fathered you.

Once I have answered your questions, I expect this correspondence to cease immediately and to be left completely alone. I give you my word as a wizard that I will answer each and every question to the best of my abilities. In return, I expect you to abide by my wishes and leave me in peace.

When Draco arrives at the beginning of the month, I shall return your quilt along with the other nonsense you have sent.

Ten questions Potter.

You finally get what you desire, as do I; this utterly useless and inane exchange to end.

Severus Snape


	11. Chapter 11

**I apologise for the lateness of this chapter. Several things have occurred in my life including an unexpected hospitalisation to have a benign tumor removed from my ovaries. I wrote most of this as I was recovering. I thank all of you for your continued patience during this troubled time in my life. I promise to answer each one of you who pmed me in the following days ahead. **

**A big hug to all my new followers as well as the individual people who took the time to review my story. It was all of you who inspired me to continue writing. It was as cathartic to me, as it was to Harry.**

**Also a small note to say chapters five and six were rewritten and expanded to show more of Draco. It is a little extra treat. Also, for those of you wanting more of a back story for Hermione and Draco, fear not, it will all be explained in due time along with how Severus survived.**

**Many exciting twists ahead, so please have patience and stay along for the ride!**

* * *

_Harry was dead._

Then again being dead would have meant blissful numbness from the wave of emotions threatening to engulf him, which meant he was unfortunately, very much alive.

_He only wished he was dead._

Burying his face in his trembling hands, Harry squeezed his eyes shut trying to ignore the letter that was laid carefully on the table in front of him. He gave a bitter laugh as his mind wandered to his old disastrous Occlumency lessons with Snape, wishing now he'd paid better attention; though at this point he wasn't even sure if Occluding would be enough to block out the pain that was licking at his heart like open flames.

Severus' letter had arrived at breakfast with his usual morning owl post. As always, his day had brightened considerably at the sight of the bleak, prison issued stationary sitting midst the stack of more colourful but forgettable correspondence; invitations to celebrations he'd never attend, charities that would be honoured to have _the boy who lived_ endorse them, or marriage proposals that would make even Lockhart lose his trademark smile.

A huge grin had spread over his face as he plucked the drab coloured packet from the bundle which he tossed to the ever-growing pile of disregarded post that loomed on the corner of his kitchen table. Harry always promised himself he'd eventually sort through the lot, but having to face the hateful stack of unwanted attention always made him procrastinate another day. The only post he ever looked forward to was the occasional postcards from friends on holiday, his Quidditch Quarterly Journal, and of course Severus Snape's replies. It took a while to admit it to himself, but receiving a letter from the surly wizard was usually the highlight of his week.

Hell, if he wanted to be honest with himself, it was probably the highlight of his life.

Exchanging barbs with the often acerbic man had filled him with a sense of purpose and contentment he hadn't even realised was missing. Regardless of what people thought of Severus Snape, he knew there wasn't a single person on earth who would ever understand him better than this one man. As their correspondence progressed, Harry became more aware of their many similarities ranging from mutual traumatic upbringings to the manipulation each had endured from a wizard they had trusted as both a mentor and a friend. It was this growing affinity which Harry treasured, and he looked forward to their exchanges with each letter penned.

_Unfortunately, It was also this same sense of connection which made the scathing reply lying on his kitchen table that much more difficult to bear._

Grabbing the hateful letter, he abandoned his cold breakfast to pace the narrow halls and empty rooms of 12 Grimmauld Place. Turbulent emotions rolled over him in angry waves which crested and broke as he reread the letter countless times, his mind trying to grapple with the completely unexpected turn Severus' demeanor had taken. Though he had been caustic in his previous letters, he had never been this cruel to him, even at his worst when he was his teacher at Hogwarts.

After everything he had done for the man (hell, was still doing for him!) not only to get him released from Azkabn early, but to finally have his name cleared in the wizarding world, how could Severus think that all he wanted from him was information on his mum? Did the man really think he was that shallow especially after everything they had shared in writing, not to mention the memories that had been bestowed to him by the Potions master himself when he thought he was dying? In all this time, never once had he asked a single question about his parents, especially Lily Potter. After viewing Severus' memories, Harry had made a vow to never go down a path he understood was simply too painful for Severus to discuss. If Severus ever wanted to volunteer information on his own, then he would gladly listen, but if not, he knew better than to ask.

_He cared too much to ask._

Fuck the ungracious git…

Harry slammed open the door to the small glasshouse he had added as an extension when he'd first started renovating Grimmuald Place, and strode out into the late afternoon sun. The tiny magical garden was his sanctuary and people knew that if he couldn't be found anywhere in the house, then he was probably in the garden tending to his small beds of fragrant herbs or the surrounding rose bushes he had begun planting in the spring. Missing the lush greenery of Hogwarts in addition to always being kept indoors during his childhood due to his aunt and uncle's fears of being seen by the neighbours, Harry had been determined to have some sort of connection to the outdoors, especially while living within the darkened and desolate rooms of Sirius' ancestral home. The glasshouse had been his answer and thankfully Neville Longbottom had volunteered his assistance in its creation. In gratitude, Harry had offered to grow an array of herbs and magical plants that Neville could use in his personal research as a studying herbologist since Minerva had stated that Hogwarts only had a limited amount of space that could be used for such purposes. The arrangement had worked perfectly, and Harry now had this small space he could call his haven. The mini atrium was also home to a small tree Neville had imported from the States called a Snowy Mespilus. He had planted it in early November and by spring its slender branches had burst with clouds of white star-shaped blossoms that reminded Harry of lazy summer skies. He usually found peace under its comforting presence and wrote many of his letters to Severus there.

Hoping for the calm he desperately needed, he made his way to his usual spot, the letter still clutched in his hand.

Slumping against the lone tree, Harry looked up at the sky through the magical glass rooftop and watched the afternoon slowly bleed into evening leaving wisps of pink and violet streaks in its wake. Even though he knew Severus could not see this explosion of sunset from where he was in the North Atlantic, he knew he would eventually see the light of the evening stars trying to peek through the velvet sky. Usually Harry took comfort in the fact that both he and Severus could see the same stars wherever they were. It made him feel more connected to the man however distantly, but now as he saw the early evening stars twinkling overhead, he felt nothing but the cold vastness sweeping between them.

Taking the hateful letter, he crumpled into a tight ball, and flung it as far as possible. He no longer needed it. He had the most important parts etched into his memory:

_I do not need your help._

_I do not need your redemption._

_I do not need your nonsensical friends._

_Most important Mr Potter, I do not need you, and never shall._

The last part had hurt him in a way that could only be compared to the stabbing hopelessness he'd felt after Sirius' death. As he leaned heavily against the familiar trunk of the tree, his thoughts about the Potions master scattered like the fallen petals that had drifted from the swaying branches to make room for the new buds of an early summer. As the chill of the evening air gripped him, he wrapped his cloak firmly around himself like a shield, and snuggled further against the old trunk waiting for the darkness to swallow him like the despair wrapping around his heart.

* * *

It was in the early hours of morning that Draco found Harry asleep under the tree, his cloak entwined tightly around him, glasses askew on the small patch of grass. Draco sighed heavily knowing something must have happened. He and Hermione had tried Floo calling Grimmauld Place several times the previous day to inquire if Harry had received any word from Severus. It had been quite a while since any of them had heard from him, and it was nearing the time to bring his monthly care package. Harry had mentioned that Severus might enclose a small list of books or sanitary supplies in his reply, and Draco had wanted to procure them as early as possible to make sure they were ready, but the last few weeks had brought no owl from Azkaban.

As time passed, Harry had become increasingly anxious that something bad had happened to the Potions master, but Draco had assured him, having known his godfather his whole life, that there were times when Severus needed space and it was best not to push him; in other words, he would write when he was ready.

However as days turned into weeks, even Draco started to grow concerned, but made sure to keep his worries known only to Hermione. He kept reminding himself that if something bad ever truly happened to Severus, he would be the first notified since he was family. So far his own private inquiries into Severus' wellbeing had come back positive; he was alive and as well as any prisoner could be considering he was in a wizarding prison.

_He simply did not wish to write._

Draco looked down at Harry's peaceful form and almost hated to wake him. He knew that Harry never slept well, and though it went unspoken between the two wizards, they both knew why.

Harry often invited him and his fiancée to stay at Grimmauld Place for short intervals in order to acquaint them with the home that would eventually become theirs after Harry began his apprenticeship at Hogwarts in the fall. It was during one of these visits that Draco finally understood why Harry often appeared tired or haggard, no matter how cheerful he may appear.

After a rich dinner which Hermione had cooked along with a shared bottle of Merlot to end the evening, the three of them had retired sated and ready for a peaceful night's slumber.  
_  
Or so they thought._

Without warning, Draco and Hermione had been ripped from sleep when the calm night was suddenly shattered by piercing screams and hysterical sobbing. The two of them had raced from their bedroom on the second floor and up to the third which held the master bedroom and the source of the anguished cries.

_Harry's room._

Flinging the door open, both Draco and Hermione stood frozen to the spot, their hearts stopping mid beat at the sight which greeted them.

Harry was naked and drenched in sweat, the sheets twisted around him almost like a coiled snake wanting to strangle the last breath of air from his writhing body. His arms were thrashing and flinging over his face as if trying to block out whatever horror he was witnessing. His mouth was open in a silent cry for help, only emitting an occasional scream when whatever demon he was battling seemed to allow him.

Draco, seeming to have recovered his senses first, was about to run over and shake Harry awake when Hermione placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder and stilled him.

'If you wake him like this, he won't know where he is and will be even more terrified. He needs to wake up slowly on his own Draco. I've witnessed Harry in this state before when we were hunting Horcruxes. It's night terrors,' she whispered, her eyes haunted with the memories.

Draco turned to stare at his fiancée with unabashed shock. 'Have you lost your mind Hermione? LOOK AT HIM! We simply can't leave him like this! There's got to be something….'

Hermione's deep brown eyes locked with his lightest grey and the wisdom and strength he had fallen deeply in love with, shone through like a beacon in the night, making him silent once again.

'Trust me Draco,' she said in a firm but soothing voice. 'I've seen this before from victims of severe trauma, especially from those who have suffered through the effects of the war. Go get my bag Dragon and then go back to bed and wait for me. There's nothing more you can do here but cause him further humiliation if he wakes up. I promise I shan't be long.'

As Draco looked from the flailing man and back to his fiancée, he knew she was right. Hermione was always deeply connected to those around her, especially working with less fortunate or victimized people in the magical world as she studied Wizarding Law. Psychological and magical damage was her forte.

He silently padded back to their room and grabbed her infamous beaded bag from the wardrobe, before making his way back to Harry's room and placing it on the nightstand. Hermione was already sitting on the bed and gently running light fingers through Harry's damp hair as she whispered soothing incantations that were too low for Draco to hear. Though Harry was still whimpering, he was no longer thrashing around, so he knew that whatever Hermione was doing was working its own magic. He learnt long ago not to question her wisdom in these matters nor her words.

He bestowed a small kiss on the top of Hermione's nest of curls before making his way back to their room on the second floor. He slipped into bed and crawled into the warm spot that had been his fiancée's, hugging her pillow to his chest. He knew only too well the viciousness of the nightmares Harry suffered, although his had been of a different nature. It was only through Hermione's constant love and healing that he was finally able to set them free.

_Harry had no one he could turn to, and wondered how the hell he survived day after day._

It was about an hour before he heard the creak of their door opening, and the comforting warmth of his lover slipping into bed and wrapping herself around him. Neither spoke. There were no words needed, as it was understood this would never be spoken of unless Harry himself wanted to do so. It was a long time before either of them found sleep.  
_  
Harry never again failed to cast a Silencing Charm before he retired to bed._

Draco never mentioned the incident, and neither did Harry, but they both knew it was one of the causes whenever Harry looked like hell or dark circles would appear under his eyes that were too much for even a glamour to hide.

The other cause was usually a disagreement with Severus, which tore Harry apart more than the man would ever admit.

Sometimes Draco preferred the nightmares for those were far easier to solve with the Dreamless Sleep Potion he knew Harry took whenever they became too difficult or prolonged to handle. Severus however, was a much more complex matter, especially if his hunches on the situation were correct.

_And if they were, Merlin help them all._

Draco was about to try and wake the sleeping man, when something small and round caught his eye a few feet away. Walking over to the object, he picked it up and realised immediately what it was.

_His heart sank._

Unfurling the tightly balled letter, he spread it out as best as he could against his knee, before pulling out his wand and casting a Lumos. Silently, he began to read.

Time stood still, and not even a breath of wind seemed to ruffle his hair as he scoured the page. Finally, he lifted his grey eyes from the letter and settled them on the sleeping wizard under the tree.

With a deep sigh, he carefully folded the crumpled parchment and tucked it safely into his cloak. He had only read it once, but it was enough for him to confirm all the suspicions he had held inside.

_Draco knew Severus far too well, and it was about time Harry had that same understanding._

For the first time in a long while, Draco saw a glimmer of hope in this situation. Striding to the sleeping man with confidence, he urgently woke Harry up.

_They had a lot of talking to do._

* * *

Later that night, long after Draco had returned to Hermione, Harry sat at his kitchen table with fresh parchment and ink spread out before him. Tea was steaming in a china mug to his left and Severus' letter was sitting on his right as a reminder of everything he and Draco had spoken of.

Dipping his quill into the inkwell, he began his reply to the older wizard, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Severus would most definitely get the ten questions he asked for.

_But nothing he was expecting._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter seven was extended with greater depth to reflect this chapter. I'm sorry that I keep going back and forth like this at times, but that is what happens as a story progresses and changes.**

**I want to again thank all of you for your patience, understanding and reviews. I can't tell you enough how much it inspires me to write, so please review if you have the time. I encourage criticism as well as compliments. I sincerely want to know what all of you are thinking.**

**Hugs to all my new followers!**

** I hope you enjoy this intense chapter! How do you think Severus will respond...if he does at all?**

* * *

Prisoner 08091940- Severus Snape

Cell 42D-High Risk Security

Azkaban Prison- Great Sea, North Atlantic

13/May/1999

Severus,

I'm not going to apologise for the lateness of this reply considering the scathing tone of your last letter. In all honesty, I considered not responding to you at all, but the wisdom of a friend helped me to see the situation in a different light. Because of this, I needed time to sort things out in my head before responding. Too many times, I've let my emotions rule my actions and cloud my better judgment. The catastrophe at the Department of Mysteries which led to Sirius' death is a prime example. No matter what anyone says, his blood will always remain on my hands. You know as well as I do, that if I'd just kept a level head and actually _listened _to those around me, my godfather would probably be alive today. You were correct when you said that impulsivity and recklessness have always been my biggest downfalls, however this time I refuse to let them get the best of me and destroy the fragile thread of friendship we've somehow managed to build upon.

I'm sure you'll try to deny that any such connection exists, but if so, you'd only be lying to yourself. From the first moment we laid eyes on each other, there's always been a profound affinity between us. Whether it was anger, protectiveness, frustration or respect; whatever was there, was always felt with a layer of intensity I could never explain. There is a very fine line between love and hate Severus, which is why I'll reiterate what I wrote in my second letter to you:

_I never hated you Professor Snape._

You're my friend first and foremost, even if I'm not yours. No matter what hurtful things you'll undoubtedly continue to fling in my direction, it won't change the respect or admiration I feel for you. Do you know why?

_Because I care for you Severus Snape. _

I know you'll read that sentence and do everything in your power to convince yourself that it isn't true, just as you've always done. I'm not the only one who cares for you Severus. What about Draco, Professor McGonagall, Molly and many of your former colleagues and students? Do you really believe all these people are continuing to fight for you only out of pity or remorse? Have you thoroughly convinced yourself that once you're a free man, everyone will drop you, myself included?

If you truly believe all that rubbish, than it seems we have our work cut out for us. Only time and perseverance will convince you that you're worthy of respect, admiration and most importantly…_love._

I promised myself from the very first letter I wrote, that I would never lie or hide anything from you. I've been open and honest with every word I've inked to parchment, believing we've both suffered through enough manipulation and mind games to last a lifetime. I wanted us to start fresh with a clear line of trust as our guide. Its been something I've tried very hard to foster between us which is why the shocking accusations in your last letter were beyond hurtful Severus, they were despicable. How could you honestly believe that all the things we're doing for you, as well as all that we've shared in our exchanges thus far, were solely for the purpose of getting information on my mother? I was so outraged at your words that if it hadn't been for Draco, I probably would have ended our correspondence right then and there. I'm now certain this was the outcome you were hoping to achieve in order to drive me away.

_Simply put, Draco taught me how to read between the lines of your antagonism so I could see the truth behind your caustic words._

Never again will I allow _your_ fear of rejection to push me away, nor will I continue as your punching bag for past hurts you've endured. We've all suffered pain Severus, but it's how we cope with that pain which makes us who we are.

You've offered to answer ten questions for me and I've decided to accept your proposal. As a wizard of your word, I expect you to honor this request fully. Don't worry Severus, I promise not to ask anything that will make you feel uncomfortable. Believe it or not, I actually have too much respect for you to do something of that nature, even though you may not believe so.

You implied that I all I desired was to gain information on my parents, particularly my mother. That was something you _assumed _in your own mind. I'd rather hoped you'd know me better than that, but sadly I was mistaken. As you stated quite clearly:

_'Just because you saw a smattering of my memories does not make you knowledgeable of whom Severus Snape is._

_You know nothing about me.'_

It's painfully obvious you know very little about me either. I realised with the incorrect assumptions you made, that you only _think_ you do.

_Sound familiar?_

You're right Severus. I may not know much about you, but if you'll allow me the privilege, the person I want answers about is not my mother or father as you may believe. It's not even Sirius or Remus.

_It's you Severus. _The person I want to know most about is _you_.

Before you presume anything, I don't mean Severus Snape former Death Eater turned spy nor the dreaded and feared Potions master of the dungeons. I am also not interested in Severus Snape war veteran or tragic hero of unrequited love. As interesting as those images are, I am far more intrigued by what lies beneath those personas. You see, the person I want to know about is Severus Snape the _man._ I want to understand the individual human being that has fears, hates, loves and dreams just like everyone else on this bloody planet. You're certainly _not_ an exception to that rule.

I want to know about the wizard who could spend over half his life protecting those whom him he claims to despise, even at the constant risk of losing his own life; indeed at times, his very soul.

I have no doubt you'll probably be angry, shocked, and maybe even a little confused, but for all you say I _don't_ know about you, there is one thing I can guarantee with absolute certainty; you are no coward Severus Snape, and the man I _do_ know would never back away from any of these questions nor break his word in trying to answer them.

So now I ask you Severus:

_1. Once you're finally free (and that day will come), what is the first thing you'd like to do?_

_2. Do you watch the stars at night?_

_3. Describe a childhood memory that you treasure. If you don't have one, than it could be any memory, as long as it's one that has significant meaning for you._

_4. Tell me about the last time you truly smiled Severus._

_5. If I could cook you a complete meal (pudding included) what would it be?_

_6. Close your eyes and envision this one word: Contentment. What do you see?_

_7. Name a place you would like to travel to one day, any place in the world._

_8. Tell me the title of a poem which inspires you. I know you read poetry because I helped Minerva pack and store your belongings in Spinner's End after your trial. With Draco still being held in lock down for his own upcoming proceedings, he was unable to help, and I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else sorting through your personal belongings. Minerva felt the same way, so rest assured, we took many steps to ensure your privacy as we packed, although I couldn't help but notice the books. We share many favourite authors you know, especially Muggle ones._

_9. I know you carry a deep passion for the art of potion-making, but was teaching your true goal, or did you dream of a different path in your life?_

_10. How did you survive Severus? This is such an important question because we all thought you were dead when we left you in the Shrieking Shack. If we had any inclination you were still alive, we would never have left you in such a state. I can only hope that one day you'll forgive us for doing so. It would help me a great deal to understand how you came to survive the war._

_'Once I have answered your questions, I expect this correspondence to cease immediately and to be left completely alone. I give you my word as a wizard that I will answer each and every question to the best of my abilities. In return, I expect you to abide by my wishes and leave me in peace_**_.'_**

Do you honestly want our correspondence to end once you've answered my questions? If so, I'll honor your request and write you no more, but I absolutely refuse to stop fighting for your release nor the vindication you justly deserve. I wouldn't do that to anyone, especially not to a person whom I consider a _friend._

Before I close this letter, I'd like to extend the same offer you gave to me, and answer ten questions of your choice. I feel it's only fair to return the favor which you so graciously granted me. Feel free to ask me anything you want Severus, nothing is off limits. I have nothing to hide and would honestly like for you to better understand who I am as both a _man_ and a _wizard_.

_Not the boy who lived._

_Not Gryffindor's golden hero._

_Especially not the savior of the wizarding world._

I want you to know me as Harry Potter; a simple human being who is trying to cope with the changing world around him, just as you are.

_Just me._

_Just Harry._

_'The body is a house of many windows: there we all sit, showing ourselves and crying on the passers-by to come in and love us.' ~Robert Louis Stevenson _

I want to come in Severus if you'll allow it. Please...let me.

Harry


End file.
